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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26527687">A Calming Atmosphere</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsJackofAllFandoms/pseuds/MsJackofAllFandoms'>MsJackofAllFandoms</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Queen (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Face massage, Fluff, M/M, Massage, Open Ending, Platonic touching or is it?, Rated for swearing, Sick Character</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 05:15:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,969</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26527687</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsJackofAllFandoms/pseuds/MsJackofAllFandoms</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Brian has a cold. Roger just happens to know how to help. This fic isn't as sexual as this description sounds, sorry! </p><p>Set in 1972.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Brian May/Roger Taylor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>65</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>If implications of being incredibly snotty with a cold puts you off, you might wanna skip this one.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In his defence, it was all perfectly innocent. No, fuck what Freddie says, it really was! Because Brian had a cold, which meant that he was snoring when he tried to sleep, and either it was the noise of his own snoring or his dry throat as he breathed in through his mouth, but he was then waking up frequently through the - well, not night because between Brian’s insomnia and the demands of being a rockstar, they didn’t really sleep over night so it was more like - the designated hours for sleeping which started sometime early morning to maybe 11am. And that meant he was grumpy. </p><p>And snappy.</p><p>And a bit pathetic looking, if Roger was being honest. With his red flaky nose and sad glassy eyes. </p><p>So. Of course he wanted to help. For all of Roger’s faults, and he knew he had many, he was, though he would never readily admit it, a big softie who liked helping people. And sometimes that meant going over to a grumpy guitarist, taking away the pen that was being used with a bit more ferocity than necessary on an innocent note book, grabbing hold of the guitarist’s shoulders and, ignoring the verbal protests and attempts to shake you off, manhandling said guitarist into lying down with their heads in your lap.</p><p>Not like that. </p><p>Perverts.</p><p>But that’s how Roger found himself, sat cross legged with his back to one arm of the sofa, Brian’s head, slightly tilted so his chin was pointing just a bit downwards, on top of one of Freddie’s obnoxious wooly knitted throw pillows in his lap. Poor Brian was so long, his legs dangled over the other arm of the couch. </p><p>“Roger, really… What are you doing?”</p><p>“Shush”</p><p>Roger cradled Brian’s head in his hands for a second as he remembered what he was taught. Then he brought his thumbs to the middle of Brian’s forehead and gently pressed down. Brian tensed up underneath his fingers.</p><p>“Roger?”</p><p>“Shush. Relax.”</p><p>“Bit hard to relax when-”</p><p>“I said shush.”</p><p>Brian snapped his teeth together, but his lips remained open, to help with breathing seeing as his nose was all blocked. </p><p>Roger rotated his thumbs in circles, just above each eyebrow and, with firm consistent pressure, smoothly rubbed from Brian’s forehead down to the temple on each side. He let go, went back to the starting position above each eyebrow and repeated the motion three more times. </p><p>Brian’s jaw remained tensed, his shoulders had creeped up to his ears, and his eyes were flitting about the room, not keeping focus on a single thing for very long. </p><p>Roger sighed. This clearly wasn’t working. </p><p>“Bri,” Roger said, rather softly in the hope to promote a calm, relaxing atmosphere, “Do me a favour? Breathe slowly in through your nose and out through your mouth.”</p><p>“I can’t.” Came the rather stern reply. Right. The cold. </p><p>“Just try.”</p><p>And Brian, god love him, did try. His nose made a horrible disgusting rattle noise and something must have caught somewhere cos then he was coughing out through his mouth. Brain brought his wrist up to cover his mouth with sleeve and awkwardly shuffled on his back to get comfortable again. Well that just wouldn’t do. </p><p>“Sorry.” Brain said, rather sheepishly.</p><p>“S’alright.” </p><p>Okay. Time to start again. </p><p>“Okay-” He knew saying <em> Would you just relax </em>would not help, “Just imagine you’re about to punch me, all riled up and angry, like i’ve said the worst thing you could ever imagine.”</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“It’ll help, trust me.”</p><p>Brian sighed, but took a few seconds to think and then nodded to himself. “Okay, now what?”</p><p>“Clench your fists, furrow your face and really tense your shoulders. Like I said, like you’re really fucking pissed off at me and want to punch me. Stay like that and hold your breath for thirty seconds.”</p><p>Brian did actually as he was told. It wasn’t as much a fighting stance whilst lying down as Roger had been hoping for, but Roger supposed it was the best a pacifist, with no real provocation to answer to, could do on short notice. </p><p>“And now slow breath out and unclench everything.”</p><p>Brian did slowly breathe out deeply and unclenched everything, and he felt a bit more of Brian’s weight on his lap through the pillow as Brian sunk a bit deeper into the cushion. Roger  rubbed his hands together to warm them up, but they were already pretty warm. He was the kind of guy who was always warm, apparently. Freddie had said he came in handy when the flat was cold. And the drumming really made his hands warm. This time when Roger put his hands around Brian’s head, he barely tensed up. He did flinch though.</p><p>Roger let that go. Brian could be a bit flinchey sometimes. </p><p>“Okay,” he said, nice and calmly, low, “Close your eyes.”</p><p>Brian closed his eyes, grimacing. Roger tutted. He put his thumbs to just above Brian’s eyebrows, making sure his fingers would not get tangled in the curls, and rubbed along Brian's forehead, then in a circular motion down to Brian’s temples. He went back to his start position above Brian’s eyebrows again and repeated the motion again, then did it a third time. On the fourth time, around the 30 second mark, finally, Brian’s face finally smoothed out from the grimace into a more neutral expression.</p><p>Progress.</p><p>He moved his hands slightly, which meant they were more cradling Brian’s face than his neck, and he could feel Brian tensing up again slightly. Roger fought the urge to roll his eyes and figured maybe some verbal communication could help with this situation. </p><p>“I’m going to press down on your ethmoid sinus now, okay?” He asked, softly to continue promoting a relaxed and calm atmosphere. He aligned his thumbs at either side of the bridge of Brian’s nose and pressed down gently.</p><p>Brian gave a little startled grunt and pressed his head back against the pillow, scrunching his eyes up. Roger let go immediately. </p><p>“Sorry, did that hurt?” It shouldn’t have done. If it hurt, then there was more at play than a simple cold here.</p><p>“No, sorry. Wasn’t expecting it.”</p><p>“I did say!” Roger said loudly, and then realised- that’s not going to help.</p><p>“Oh well I’m sorry if I didn’t realise by <em> I’m going to press into your ethy-whatever </em> you meant push your thumbs into my face!”</p><p>His eyes opened and glared right up at Roger. Which shouldn’t have been as funny or adorable as it was, but the man <em> was </em>lying down with his head on top of a red and mustard yellow knitted throw pillow, which clashed brilliantly with his lovely purple stripey jumper… and when you throw in his red flakey nose and glassy eyes… It was like the face of angry kitten.</p><p>Roger did not laugh. </p><p>But it was very hard for him not to laugh. </p><p>Brian glared harder. And then he sighed and made to get up, which would not do at all! Roger was not here, exercising the patience of a saint and recalling skills of the past just so his bandmate could get in a snit and be a worse arsehole than he’d been all morning. </p><p>“I should have known you were up to no good.”</p><p>“No, Bri, come on-” Roger patted at Brian’s shoulder to get him to lie back properly. “Seriously. Lie back down. I’m trying to help you, you lanky twit. You’ll feel better, honest.” </p><p>He eyed Roger warily. “If I do, you're going to shove your fingers into my face again.”</p><p>“My thumbs, and they’re not being shoved into your face. They're just pressing, <em> very gently, </em>onto your sinuses to help with the pressure, okay?”</p><p>Brian’s eyes flitted about the room, though did not look at Roger as he decided whether he would let the drummer continue or not. </p><p>Brian took a deep breath in, let it out and nodded. “Okay.”</p><p>“Okay,” Roger parroted back. “Get comfortable again like before, okay? Nice calming breaths. If I hurt you, let me know, but it honestly shouldn’t hurt.”</p><p>Brian humphed but did actually get back into his previous position, and try and breathe some calming breathes through his nose. The effect was ruined by the harsh way he had to breathe in through it being clogged, but he let it out slowly through his mouth, which did help a bit. Brian then closed his eyes again without prompting.  </p><p>“Okay,” Roger said quietly, to warn Brian lest he get snippy again, “Ethmoid sinus, either side of your nose, just under your eye. I’m going to press <em> very gently </em>down for a few seconds, okay?”</p><p>“Okay.” Brian said, just a shade of apprehensive. As if Roger didn’t know what he was doing.</p><p>But Roger did know what he was doing. He pressed down either side of Brian’s face, and Brian only reered back a tiny amount - Roger did not tut out loud at this action - and Roger held it for fifteen seconds. When the fifteen seconds was up, he changed the positions of his hands so he could slowly rub either side of Brian’s nose, up and down, firmly but gently, to drain the sinuses downwards. </p><p>As his hands were now mostly over Brian’s cheeks, Roger could feel that, despite his own hands being warm, Brian’s face was warmer and a little bit flushy. </p><p>Fever. Poor fellow. </p><p>He repeated the action again, and this time Brian did not flinch. Roger may have danced on the inside at this. This was real progress. Roger then moved his hands back around Brian’s head, fingers brushing the curls out of the way, so that he could rub his thumbs just underneath and alongside the outside of both of his ears. Just like he was taught, he let his thumbs curl up into his first two fingers and used the backs of his fingers, particularly his knuckles, to rub alongside Brian’s cheeks. </p><p>He noticed Brian’s breathing getting deeper, and repeated the action for almost half a minute, without comment lest he disturb the peace..</p><p>It was a good job Brian had shaved, Roger suddenly thought. Roger wasn’t sure the action would be as smooth as it was if he’d have had to content with the scruffiness that could be Brian’s beard, when he let it grow. But it was pretty smooth, as it was, which made Roger’s work just a bit easier.</p><p>“I’m going to press down just near the bottom of your nose again, okay? It'll be a bit more pressure than before but it still shouldn't hurt.” Roger asked, taking up that soft, calm spiritual voice he’d picked up some years ago along with these skills. To promote a calming atmosphere.</p><p>“Okay.” Brian breathed out. </p><p>Cradling Brian’s face again, Roger pressed down, a bit more firmly this time like he said he would, either side of Brian’s nose, just underneath the cheek bones. Brian neither flinched nor made a noise. </p><p>Roger made a circular movement with each thumb, much like he'd done before with Brian's forehead. It was almost as if he was rubbing the smallest amounts of cream into his face. He then rubbed his thumbs, with constant pressure, along the underside of Brian's cheekbones either side, all the way to his jaw line underneath his earlobe, all the while ready to let go if Brian found it too uncomfortable or suddenly painful.</p><p>But actually the guitarist didn't. He didn't say anything. He just laid there, head on the ugly throw pillow, breathing evenly with his mouth slightly parted, just the quietest rumble of breath as it caught the back of his throat. </p><p>Roger repeated the motion three more times and finished up without pomp or flourish, then he looked down at Brian. He didn't think he was asleep, but it was a shame to disturb him all the same, but needs must otherwise the whole exercise would be pointless.</p><p>He really did have a lovely face though. </p><p>He sighed through his nose and patted and gently shook Brian's shoulder. </p><p>"Bri? Bri, you need to sit up now."</p><p>The reaction was immediate. Brian's eyes snapped open and he breathed in a started gasp. He looked straight up at Roger with wide eyes.</p><p>"Falling asleep on me?" He asked, hoping his smile softened the teasing.</p><p>Brian looked away and shook his head. "No." And then without further prompting, shuffled into a sitting position using his elbows. Roger helped with one hand on his back, but used his free hand to grab the tissue box that Brian had taken to carrying around the flat that was sitting on the coffee table, next to the abused notebook.</p><p>"Keep your head tilted down," Roger instructed, and guided the guitarist's head into the right position. He then passed him a tissue and instructed him to blow his nose.</p><p>Which Brian did, loudly. Immediately the guitarist grimaced at the noise.</p><p>"Again." </p><p>Brian did and again grimaced. Roger didn't need to be told to know the sinus massage worked, he could tell by the way Brian reached for another tissue.</p><p>Roger stayed beside Brian whilst he kept blowing his nose. When he stopped, Roger ruffled the curly hair comfortingly. "Feeling any better?"</p><p>Brian nodded his head. "Yes. Thank you."</p><p>Brian looked at Roger out of the corner of his eye for a second week be then looked away. And just like that, the atmosphere in the room became instantly awkward.</p><p>Neither of them said or did anything for a few minutes.</p><p>And then they both spoke at the same time, both moving apart from each other on the couch.</p><p>"Cup of tea?"</p><p>“I, er, I think I’ll go to bed- oh."</p><p>"Oh." </p><p>Brian looked between him and the door. "Just for a few more hours. Whilst I feel a bit better.”</p><p>Roger nodded, “Yeah, yeah, alright.”</p><p>Brian smiled awkwardly at him and then left to go to his room. Roger waited until he heard the door click and, breathing out as if he'd been holding a breath in, went to the kitchen for a cup of tea.</p><p>He filled the kettle, put the tea bag in, added whatever sugar he could scrape out of the caddy and poured the water in. He got milk of of the fridge and added a splash, put the bottle back and then watched the tea steep to the right colour.</p><p>When it was just the way he liked it, he carried it over to the dining table and sat down.</p><p>"Well… <em> shit </em>."</p><p>"Shit indeed." </p><p>Roger jumped up at the sound of Freddie's voice as the singer stood, in bright yellow trousers and a white long sleeved pyjama top. He was grinning. Christ, how long had Freddie been awake? </p><p>"Tell me," Freddie said, as he walked into the kitchen and surveyed the mostly empty garish fruit bowl, "Is that how you seduce all those girls, or just lanky curly haired guitarists?"</p><p>Roger's head made an impressive thunk noise as he let it drop against the table.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Poor Brian did feel better after the first chapter, but unfortunately these things sometimes get worse before they get better.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I wasn't planning on a second chapter. I really wasn't. The story was done. And then suddenly I woke up this morning and the whole chapter materialised in my head within the hour, and I've spent the whole day getting it out.<br/>Any mistakes? Let me know.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Roger looked up as Freddie came in to the bedroom fresh from the shower, holding a towell to his hair. “Well, your magic spell wore off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger, who was sat in bed reading by the lamp light that illuminated the room, with his duvet around his feet and his knees bent to rest the book on, stopped and listened to more noise-blowing and groaning coming from the other bedroom. “Yeah… Should we be worried, do you think?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Freddie stood by his bed and scrunched his hair in the towel to dry it more. “About a cold? No. You can’t die of a cold… can you? You’re the medical student.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger shook his head, “No, I don’t think so.” There was more nose blowing coming from Brian in the other bedroom. “Still, he should have shaken it off by now, but he’s sounded worse over the last couple of hours than he has all week. Deaky got better by day four and it was gone by the Monday..”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Freddie threw the towel in the corner of the room by the window. “Deaky, bless him, has a bit more meat on his bones than Brian does, dear, it might make him a bit stronger to fight these things off.” He pulled his duvet up from the top end of the bed and turned it down, then climbed into it with his usual finesse. “Maybe he needs some more of those supplements his Mum got him that time?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah…”  Roger considered the book in front of him, whether to continue reading or try and sleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or…” The pause made Roger look up again, “Maybe,” Freddie continued, with a smirk “You should go see him. Offer him your services again.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger shook his head, “Shut up Freddie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With that, he turned off the lamp and plunged the room into darkness and pulled his duvet up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was rather rude, darling. I wanted to see your scowl of denial before I went to sleep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger wasn’t even asleep when, about twenty minutes later, he heard Brian snoring like a freight train. And, evidently, neither was Freddie. </span>
  <span>“Oh dear.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They both heard the sudden catch in the back of Brian’s throat and the subsequent cough and splutter which meant he’d woken up, and then more awful, non-productive harsh nose-blowing. These walls were so thin! They even heard the small whine of frustration coming from the guitarist, and listened as heavy, uneven foot steps came from Brian’s room, went in to the kitchen, some quiet shuffling noises, the tap running as Brian filled up a glass, and foot steps going back down the hallway into Brian’s room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do hope he’ll be better by next saturday.” Freddie said quietly, as he sat up a bit on his side, supported by his elbow. “Even if he leaves the singing to us, he can’t exactly pull off a riff if he’s blowing his nose every two minutes. Can you imagine him on stage with a box of Shades one side and a bin on the other, darling? That wouldn’t be good for any of us!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger had worried about the same thing, but he also remembered what Deaky had said about performing at the start of his cold. “Maybe the vibrations will help? Deaky was fine for the whole gig at The Foxglove, until after the encore.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could just make out Freddie nodding his head, but then the singer turned his face in the drummer’s direction. “Orrrr…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They heard Brain blow his nose again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Freddie stared at Roger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Freddie kept staring. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck </span>
  <em>
    <span>off</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Freddie. I obviously made him uncomfortable, so back off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Freddie kept staring. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brian blew his nose again and then made a very pittiful </span>
  <em>
    <span>nyaaah </span>
  </em>
  <span>noise that Roger was sure they’d have heard even in a better flat with better walls, followed by more nose-blowing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger sighed, kicked back his covers and got out of bed. “I’ll go see how he is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Say goodnight from me, dear.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, alright.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Roger knocked on Brian’s door, “Hey, it’s me, can I come in?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger opened the door and leant against the door frame, looking at his miserable looking band mate on his bed, illuminated by the lamp light on the bedside table. Brain was sat up against the head board, facing the door, with bin by his bed which was full of tissues, the open tissue box right by his side, and his duvet around him from one side and kicked off the other, with his feet sticking out. “Hey. How’re you feeling?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brian rubbed at his noise and sniffed. “Like I want to cut my big giant nose off my face if I don’t develop gills in the next 2 minutes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger tutted. “You sounded so much better the other day…” He said it mindlessly without much thought, but, well, it was true.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brian nodded. “Yeah. I know. These things get worse before they get better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger hummed thoughtfully and looked around Brian’s room for inspiration. He couldn’t find any. “Me and Freddie were talking…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm?” Brain opened the tissue in his hand and blew into it again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe you should go back on those supplements your mum used to get you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brian shook his head. “They didn’t really do anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which was a fair comment. Brian didn’t develop body builder muscles, run marathons in record time or solve the old favourite P vs NP equation, but… “You never had a cold like this when you were taking them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brain waved him off. “It’s just the time of year, Rog, and I work part time in a school, it happens.” He sniffed and breathed in harshly through his nose again, and then blew it out into a tissue again. “Or I caught it from Deaky.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger sighed. They were all fair points. “Okay. Do you need anything?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A new nose?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger smiled at the thought. “Sorry, didn't cover rhinotransplantary in any of my courses.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Useless.” Brian waved his arm dismissively at Roger, dropped his tissue into the bin and then straight away pulled out a new tissue from the box. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hot drink?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brain shook his head. “No. I just want to sleep.” The P in the word sleep came out like a B. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger hovered at the door way. “Okay. Well. Good luck. And goodnight. And Freddie says goodnight too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brain smiled thinly at him. “Oh, thank you. Goodnight Rog.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger turned and held the door handle to close the door behind him, tapped on it anxiously and then turned back around. “What if I, erm-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brian stopped fussing at the duvet he couldn’t quite decide on what to do with. “Hm?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean. It helped, right? The other day?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” Brian looked down at his own hands as they stilled on the duvet, “Erm. It did. I got a few hours sleep.” Brain looked up and smiled at Roger again, “And my throat didn’t hurt when I woke up which was an added bonus, I don’t know how you managed that. Ugh.” Before Brian could say anything else, he sneezed into his tissue and blew his nose a few times. “Nyah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then Roger thought over Brian’s words.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Did Brian not know he was snoring when he was sleeping? Why was that an adorable revelation? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“But it’s late and you should sleep.” Brian concluded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger shook himself out of his thoughts and looked at Brian. Brian who had been kept awake from his own sleeping for nearly a week now, more than what he normally was by his usual insomnia. And, thanks to the almost constant bouts of needing to blow his nose, and the sneezing, he wasn’t able to put much thought into writing songs, and forget about his uni work. No wonder he’d spent the last couple of days snapping. This was the most civilised conversation they’d had since Brian came down sick! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Roger replied, “But can </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> sleep?” He asked pointedly, already knowing the answer,</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brain shook his hand. “On and off. You know how it is with awful colds-” he paused to blow his nose, and then threw that tissue in the bin. He looked at the bin with such a disheartening look of regret. “Ugh I’m going to need to plant a few trees once this is over.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Hyde Park, somewhere, everywhere.” He breathed in through his nose, or tried. It had now picked up that horrible rattling noise again that he’d had the last two days. “Nyaaaah” Roger watched as Brian begrudgingly blew his nose again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger chewed on his lip for a second, and then stepped away from the door, to inside Brian’s room. “Come on, budge over.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brian’s head snapped up. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It helped, right?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger stood there as if this all made sense. Which it did. Because not only did sinus massages help loosen built up catarrh, which was proved science, but it clearly helped Brian feel better enough to sleep, which was undeniable evidence. “Okay. So. Budge over, or down, whichever” He motioned to the bed, meaning to get behind Brian.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brain looked around the room as if that would give him any reason not to, but he obviously found nothing and so sighed heavily. He pulled the duvet down and revealed a few discarded tissues in the bed. "Okay. Ugh well that’s disgusting.” At seeing Roger’s glance, he hastily grabbed them up with fretting hands to put them in the bin. ”No don’t look!!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger laughed, “I have had a cold before Brian, I know what it’s like.” Inspiration struck him suddenly. “Tell you what, you sort your bed out, i’ll be right back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm?” Brian asked, but Roger was already out of the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He went back into his own room and instantly started looking in the drawers of their shared vanity. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Back so soon?” Freddie asked, sitting propped up on his elbows. “Dare I ask what you’re routing around for?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger turned to face him as he answered, his hands continue to search through the next door down. “Remember that pot of injury goo Mary’s weird friend bought me that time?” He asked quiet enough so that Brian couldn’t hear him through the thin walls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Freddie nodded. “Sandra,” he replied, in the same quiet way, “And yes, just about. I remember your face when she told you about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger scoffed. “Because there is absolutely nothing in it that would help an injury heal! All of the claims are bollocks, it’s just an inert base oil, vitamin e oil, and sandalwood oil you can't even smell.” He pulled out the jar he’d found by touch and looked at the label. “Ahah!” He turned back to Freddie, brandashing the jar.  “It's nothing more than a moisturiser. It heats up because your skin warms up as you rub it in, that's how oil works.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right.” Freddie replied, as if what Roger was saying didn’t make any sense or have any purpose whatsoever. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“More importantly,” Roger continued, “There’s nothing making it bad to use near the eyes or on delicate skin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Freddie’s face immediately lit up with a smirk and a pointed raised eyebrow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger sighed. He should have expected that. “I meant his face. Shut up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Freddie tutted and lied back down in bed. “You say the worst things to me, darling, some might think you don’t like me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well stop being <em>you</em> about everything and I might be nicer.” Roger walked back across the room to the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh that’s lovely. Here I am, just caring-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Goodnight Freddie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See if I give you any advice when you come running to me-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good</span>
  <em>
    <span>night</span>
  </em>
  <span> Freddie.” He closed the door firmly behind him before Freddie could continue his sentence. He then popped into to the living room to get the ugly throw pillow and walked back to Brian’s room. He knocked on the door before peeking his head around the door- a habit he’d picked up from somewhere and only exclusively used with Brian, and only in uncertain situations when the guitarist was prickly. Freddie was almost always barged in on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Coming back in. Hey.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brian turned to face the door. He was sitting cross legged on his bed, duvet near the end of the bed covering his feed and worrying at a loose thread of his plain navy blue pyjama bottoms. “Hello again.” his eyes flicked down and he spotted Freddie’s obnoxious throw pillow in his hands. ”Oh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger closed the door behind him and got on the bed behind Brian, prompting the other to shuffle down the bed to accommodate the space required. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your head’s better being tilted within a certain angle and you won’t get that with normal bed pillows.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger placed the pillow on his lap and put the glass jar of salve to the side, out of the way from spilling - although the goop was too thick to just run out of the jar within seconds - but within reach enough for Roger use more than once if needed. “Okay. Er. Lie down like the other day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right.” Brian straightened his legs, which meant they overshot the bed a significant amount, and lied down with his head against the pillow on Roger’s lap. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay. You warm enough?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.” Brian replied, sounding a little bit apprehensive again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good. I’m going to move your hair out of the way, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? Why?” Brian craned his neck to look straight up at Roger, distrusting the drummer’s actions. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger sighed. “I’m gonna try this sort of, erm-” Roger tried to think of a better way to phrase </span>
  <em>
    <span>useless muscle ache salve that I can use as a message oil, </span>
  </em>
  <span>not wanting Brian to ask him hundreds of questions about it, which Roger knew he would if he phrased it that way. “Headache soother salve,” he settled on, and satisfied with that, continued on. “It helps the sinuses too.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>It's not exactly a lie…</span>
  </em>
  <span> “But it’s a bit greasy so, you won’t want it in your hair.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh. Okay. Um…” Brian tried to gather his hair in his hands and tuck it under his head, but it was rushed and he missed the shorter hair that overhung on his forehead, which were the bits Roger needed moving, so Roger helped by combing the hair back using his fingers as a comb. “Why didn’t you, erm, use that the other day?” Brian asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I forgot about it. It just came to me now. Mary's weird friend gave it to me before Christmas.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brian looked at him uneasily. “Not Sandra.” It was not a question. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger avoided his eyes and unscrewed the lid on the salve. “Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that… safe?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger sighed, “No Brian, it’ll blind you and make your skin fall off.” He tutted for good measure as he coated his fingers. “Of course it’s safe! I checked the ingredients. It’s just hippy goop, really.” He looked at Brian to reassure him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brian did not look pleased. “Hippy goop.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It's </span>
  <em>
    <span>safe</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I promise. Who had to learn about medicinal interactions, anyway, me or you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brian sighed, but conceded and he closed his eyes without being prompted to, but before Roger could even do anything, he sat back up slightly, scrabbled for a tissue from the box at his side and blew his nose. “Ugh.” The tissue went straight into the bin, and he laid back down with his head against the pillow with a frown. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, here,” Roger said, for a distraction if nothing else, “Can you smell it?” He held it in his hands not already coated, just under Brian’s nose. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brain comically tried to look down his own face to see it properly, and shook his head. </span>
  <span>“Not really. What's it meant to smell like?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Er…” Though the faint smell was already in the air, he gave it a better sniff from the jar to see prompt a better description. “Sort of like an ottoman full of freshly washed clothes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh nice.” Satisfied, Brian nodded and closed his eyes again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Roger put the salve on the fingers of his other hand and started by gently rubbing at Brian's forehead with his thumbs, much like the other day, but much like the other day, Brian tensed up, with his shoulders rising and even curled his neck like he's a tortoise trying to go into his shell. Immediately Roger went in to the calming voice he knew to use. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Breathe out for me Bri.” He said, voice “Try scrunching everything up again, like earlier. Remember, I’ve pissed you off, i’ve said the worst thing I could ever say and you want to punch me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brian frowned at the idea. “I really don’t though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pretend you do. Like earlier. And hold your breath.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brian scrunched up his face, as if he’d eaten something that tasted particularly offensive, hunched further into himself and clenched his hands</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And slowly breathe out and unclench everything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brian breathed out slowly through his mouth, and unclenched his fists but he didn’t relax as much as he did the other day. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm… Try it again”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brain cracked open his eyes. “Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger looked down at him with a shrug, “It didn’t really work this time.” </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh. Sorry.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, don’t apologise.” He gave a quick comforting pat to Brian’s shoulder. “Come on, we're arguing in the studio, I've insulted you. Just imagine it. Clench your fists, furrow your face and really tense your shoulders.” Brain did as instructed, better this time, “Hold it…” It was more like a whole body flinch than anything that could be mistaken as spoiling for a fight, but, it would do. It was Brian, after all. “And slowly unclench everything, slowly breathe out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brian did, and it was noticeably better, to the point where he could feel once again, more of Brian’s weight on the pillow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay?” He asked, just to make sure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” Brain replied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger started again, rubbing his thumbs across Brian’s forehead and then moved in circles before rubbing down a path to Brian’s temples.The gentle scent from the salve was getting stronger in the air, but not to the point of bothering him. Roger went back to above Brian’s forehead and repeated the same motion. His thumbs glided over Brian’s skin easier this time, thanks to the salve, which Roger hoped would mean it improved the effectiveness, especially with Brian’s cold being worse than it was the other day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rubbed at the bridge of Brian’s nose and then got more salve out of the jar to put more of the oil across Brian’s noise and then down the sides, to just under his eyes. “I’m going to push down into the ethmoid again now, okay? Remember, it’s pressure, but it shouldn’t hurt and if it does, tell me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brian hummed and nodded in reply. Like earlier, Roger applied gentle pressure on either side of Brian’s face, and this time Brian didn’t flinch or rear back into the pillow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He held the pressure for fifteen seconds and then changed the position of his hands so his thumbs could rub either side of Brian’s nose, up and down, to encourage draining of the sinuses. Brian’s face, which was already warm with sickness and sleepiness, warmed even more under Roger’s hands, with a light flush covering his cheeks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger held back a smile and continued on until he needed to sweep more of Brian’s hair out of the way, so that, exactly like the other day, he could rub his thumbs just underneath and alongside the outside of both of Brian’s ears. He then used the back of his fingers to sweep across Brian’s cheeks towards his nose, just like he did the last time, to increase the pressure in a way that encourages the sinuses to drain. Much like the other day, Brian’s breathing improved and got deeper, suggesting the guitarist was relaxing into a light doze.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bri?” Roger whispered, hating to disturb him, but also used the opportunity to get more of the salve on his fingers and thumbs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm?” Brian opened his eyes tiredly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to press down near the bottom of your nose now. Remember it’s with a bit more pressure, so tell me if it hurts, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.” Brian whispered back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Much like earlier, Roger applied pressure just underneath Brian’s cheek bones, either side of his nose. Brian, on the brink of dozing again, didn’t even flinch. Roger then continued, first making circular movements with his thumbs, then rubbing along the underside of Brian's cheekbones, along his jawline, to his earlobes. Roger repeated the action three more times, just like he was taught, and just like the other day, Brian’s face remained pain free and relaxed. Roger finished the massage by letting his hands drop away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then he looked down in thought at Brian, just for a few seconds. His face was a bit red and shiny, from the salve, and couldn’t bear to disturb him again, but, unfortunately that’s how these things worked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reluctantly, he tapped Brian on the shoulder. “Hey, you need to sit up now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brian hummed and sat up slowly, opening his eyes like he’d just woken up from a deep sleep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Keep your head down,” He reminded Brian, and with Brian’s weight now off his lap, Roger leant around to the box of tissues at Brian’s side and held the box out for him to take one. Brain took a bunch out, then separated one. He himself took a couple and wiped his hands clean of any excess salve that had yet to soak into his skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Like the last time, Brian blew his nose and immediately grimaced at the noise, and probably the sensation. The implication of the noise was, if Roger was completely honest, disgusting and he grimaced in sympathy. Brian blew his nose again and then shook his head. He dumped that tissue in the bin, grabbed another and then blew his nose for the third time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did it help at all?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brian nodded. “Yes, thank you. I’m blowing my nose a lot easier now” And then he grimaced as he blew his nose </span>
  <em>
    <span>again</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “Oh, sorry. That’s disgusting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger laughed. “That’s what a sinus massage is for.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brian hummed in reply, then shuffled around so his legs were no longer sticking out at the end of the bed, and so he could lean back against his head board, propped up by pillows. The throw pillow was moved to his side, just by Roger. He breathed in deeply a few times, as if appreciating the regained ability to do so. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger watched on as the guitarist completely relaxed into the bed. It was certainly something to see, he thought, and then slammed that thought down before it could go any further. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then Brian  frowned and sat back up. “Do I need to wash this, er, hippy goo off my face?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger laughed at the question, and shook his head. “No, it soaks in to your skin like a moisturiser.” He’d almost forgotten how he’d described the salve to Brian.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” </span>
  <span>Brian flopped back on to the bed, the tiredness seeping through him. Roger took that as his cue to leave. He picked up the salve, screwed the lid back on and shuffled off the bed, dragging Freddie’s throw pillow with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brian opened his eyes and craned his head. “Sorry, so rude of me. Falling asleep on you. After all you’ve done, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger smiled and shook his head. “It’s alright. You’re tired and you can sleep now.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brian hummed in reply. Roger threw the duvet further up the bed and Brian lazily pulled it up to his shoulders. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See you in the morning, okay?” Roger whispered,</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brain nodded sleepily. “Yeah. Goodnight Rog.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger got to the door before he could do something stupid like </span>
  <em>
    <span>kiss Brian on the head, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and left the room without looking back, and closed the door quietly behind him. He then walked into his own room quietly, incase Freddie was sleeping. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The room was so dark, he couldn’t tell, so he continued to be as quiet as he could be in dumping the pillow on the only chair in the room, which was next to his bed, and putting the salve back into the drawer, near the front just incase it was needed again. Though he really hoped it wouldn’t be. He then pulled back the duvet and got into bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How is he?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger jumped with a shout of fright and felt his heart in his throat. “Jesus Christ, Freddie!” He whisper shouted, “What the fuck? I thought you were asleep!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Freddie laughed at his reaction. “I’m sorry darling, I didn’t mean to scare you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why are you just lying there awake in the dark?” Roger asked, whilst roughly battering his duvet down into place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just thinking, dear,” Freddie replied, also whispering. “But that’s not important right now. I’ve heard nothing but silence for the past five minutes so I’m assuming your magic trick worked.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger scowled at Freddie, though the singer couldn’t see him. “It’s not a magic trick, it’s a basic sinus massage.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He heard more than saw Freddie shrug. He was familiar enough with the movement by now to know that’s exactly what he’d done. “Well, whatever it is, after that horrible nose blowing he did, it all went quiet in his room, so, it must have worked.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger relaxed, the worry of Freddie starting something he decided did not want to get into right now easing. Freddie was just worried about Brian. “Yeah, he was already pretty tired so as soon as I was finished, he was already falling asleep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Poor dear… Well hopefully a good night's sleep will see him right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger couldn’t agree more, and said as much to him. Then he scooted down in his own bed so he could go to sleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And if not,” Freddie continued. Roger braced himself for impact. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind round three.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger shot up in bed, leant over to grab the throw pillow and threw it in the direction of Freddie’s head. If the </span>
  <em>
    <span>oof now Darling that was uncalled for</span>
  </em>
  <span> was anything to go by, he hit his target dead on.  </span>
  <span>“Shut up and go to sleep.” He said, and then lied back down whilst turning over, so that he faced the wall and his back faced the room. He determinedly ignored the childish sniggering coming from the other bed. </span>
</p><p>The fact that Roger wouldn't mind a round three either was quickly discarded quickly from his mind as soon as the thought formed. That was weird, even for him. <em>Why would he want to massage his friend's face!?  </em>He pulled the duvet up to his nose and closed his eyes and hoped sleep came quickly, to block out any answer that might come to him.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The hippy goop does not actually exist, which is why there's no brand. I looked around at the safest and most useless ingredients a salve could have and chose the best ones that could be used as a massage oil. And no offence meant to any Sandras out there.</p><p>Oh and incase anyone was wondering, Shades was the leading affordable brand of tissues from sometime in the 60s to the 90s. You can still buy them but other chapter brands are available and Kleenex isn't that expensive anymore, if you find them in the discount shops.</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Why do I feel like I accidentally wrote smut? </p><p>I struggled to tag this so let me know if you think it should be tagged with anything else!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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